


Not yet a breach, but an expansion

by theweightofmywords



Series: Bitter Soulmates Series [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Getting Back Together, M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 03:11:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13627362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theweightofmywords/pseuds/theweightofmywords
Summary: “I don’t understand why we keep running into each other,” he says as his hands grip his hair in frustration.Shaking himself out of his reverie, he scoffs. “You know why, Harry."Fate, it seems, still holds their lives in her ceaseless orbit.





	Not yet a breach, but an expansion

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. Don't share it with anyone mentioned in this story. Be cool.
> 
> Title taken from John Donne's poem "A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning."

“I don’t understand why we keep running into each other,” he says as his hands grip his hair in frustration. Louis remembers a time when he was the one to grip those locks. 

It wasn’t out of frustration. 

Shaking himself out of his reverie, he scoffs. “You know why, Harry.” 

As much as they tried to avoid it, the two find themselves face to face with alarming regularity: at the grocery store at ten at night, when neither of them expected to find anyone else there, let alone each other; at the birthday party of the brother of a friend of a friend’s; a few rows apart from each other on a plane on their way home from holiday. Fate, it seems, still holds their lives in her ceaseless orbit. 

This current encounter- the wedding of two of their old friends from uni- is the least unexpected. Nevertheless, each time feels like a shock to the system, like the ground beneath them is shaking and shifting just to bring them closer together. A twisted kind of reverse pangaea. 

They never spoke during their encounters, finding reasons to keep walking past each other. They don’t know anyone else at this wedding, though, and Louis supposes that Fate is tired of their abilities to escape her gravitational pull. 

Harry does that thing where he rubs his eyes before he lets out a dejected sigh. 

“You act like being my soulmate is the worst thing to ever happen to you,” Louis bristles. 

“You act like you didn’t just fuck off halfway around the world the first chance you got,” Harry replies. He rolls his eyes as he drinks the rest of his champagne. Gesturing towards the dance floor, he asks, “So, how long do you think these two will stay married?” 

Louis stares at the newlyweds, dancing with their arms wrapped tight around each other. He didn’t need to see their soulmate marks to know that they are fated to be together. 

“They’re meant to be.”

“So were we.”

The two men stand at the bar, close but not touching. For a fleeting moment, Louis wonders if that distance will ever fade. If he tries hard enough, he can still remember the feel of Harry’s lips on his and the way he thought _‘this is what love is’_ the first time they kissed. When they were younger, their soul mark still fresh on the skin above their hearts, they felt unstoppable. The future seemed an obvious course, the road ahead paved with gold. Little did he know that their love wasn’t a sure thing, soulmates or not. 

Louis often tries to pinpoint when it all went wrong. Was it when they couldn’t agree on which city to live in after graduation? Was it when they realised their friend groups didn’t quite mesh as well as they had hoped? Louis wondered if their love sank under the weight of one too many unwashed dishes in the sink, or if it was the culmination of every passive aggressive comment, every unreturned smile, every disappointed frown, piled on top of each other. 

Whatever it was, the nail in the coffin was when he decided to take a job in the States. Film production wasn’t a Manchester-based industry, as much as he had wanted it to be. He thought the endless sun would bring some warmth back into their unraveling relationship. 

He thought Harry would want to go with him. 

Louis thought parallel lines were never meant to diverge. But he knew that they were never meant to intersect either, and if his life had crossed into Harry’s, maybe they weren’t parallel after all. When Louis told him that he had accepted the job, Harry’s face had shattered. He stormed off before Louis could say anything and didn’t come home for two days. 

Louis reasoned that if they could fall apart so easily at the first sign of trouble, then maybe the whole soulmates thing was meaningless after all. When Harry returned, Louis proposed that they separate.

Louis hasn’t looked directly at Harry in what feels like decades, but from the corner of his eye, he can see him clutching his champagne glass. The glow from the candles on the bar and at each table illuminate his profile, and Louis sees wrinkles around his eyes that weren’t there the last time he was this close to him. 

He suddenly feels so very sad. 

“Yeah, but unlike us,” Louis says dejectedly, “they’re good together.”

Harry cocks his head, his brow furrowed. Setting his glass down on the bar, he steps even closer. 

“We were good together,” he says, leaning down towards Louis’ ear. “We were great, even.”

And Louis knows that they were. Some days, being with Harry was like slipping on a favorite sweater. He didn’t have to think about what to do or say, because Harry would just know. Other days, their moving parts and the frenetic energy that flowed through each of them worked in tandem to create something beautiful. On their good days- and they really did have many of those- they felt infinite. 

Louis finally turns towards him. A frown mars Harry’s face, and if there’s one thing, deep down, that Louis can’t stand, it’s hurting Harry. He’s accepted that he’s already hurt him enough for one lifetime, and he’s been living with the consequences ever since. Maybe it’s the fact that they’re at a wedding, or maybe it’s because this is the fifth time in as many months that they’ve run into each other, or maybe it’s just because Louis can’t shake the dull ache in his bones that had settled in when he moved away from Harry four years ago, but he feels tired of being away from him. 

“Come on, Harry,” he sighs. “Let’s dance.”

Harry raises a brow. “Dance? Right now?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “No, at the next place we run into each other. Of course, now!”

Harry shakes his head, but before he could reject him, Louis brings his hands together in a silent plea. 

“For nostalgic value?” he jokes, hoping his voice doesn’t shake too much with how much he hopes Harry says yes. 

Harry eyes his empty drink before glancing at the dance floor and then back at Louis. “Alright,” he acquiesces, “Fine. Let’s dance.”

His face looks like what Louis had once termed a “grumpy kitten” as they face each other. Louis’ arms feel heavy at his sides as his fingers ache to move closer to Harry. To his relief, Harry appears just as hesitant, his glare locked on his pigeon-toed feet. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Louis sighs, stepping up to Harry and slipping his right hand onto Harry’s lower back. Clasping his left hand with Harry’s right hand, he continues, “We used to dance together all the time.”

“‘Used to’ being the key words,” Harry mumbles. His words hold no heat behind them, however, and when Louis looks up, he sees the regret in Harry’s eyes. All the years lost between them suddenly feel like cement in his lungs, and he feels like he can’t breathe from the loss. 

He lays his head on Harry’s shoulder, his chest heaving. His eyes stare at their feet fumbling across the floor as he silently takes a gasp of air. As he breathes in, he realises that Harry still smells the same. 

“I miss you, you know,” he whispers. “Doesn’t feel right.”

He half-expects Harry to let go of him, but instead, he rubs his thumb over the back of his hand. 

“Sometimes I wonder,” he begins, his lips brushing against Lous’ hair as he speaks careful words, “if we hate each other. Or if we’re just hurt.” 

Louis’ nose rubs against Harry’s neck as he shakes his head. 

“I don’t hate you, H,” he mumbles. “Never could.” 

“You don’t love me, though,” Harry replies. 

Louis looks up, startled that his first instinct was to argue against Harry’s words. For all they’ve been through, Harry is embedded in his veins, in each beat of his heart. He knows that what they had was love, but he wonders if that’s another kind of love. 

“Being with you was never something I had to ‘get used to.’ It was just what felt right,” Louis says, instead. He blames the champagne and the love songs for his candor. And when he steps even closer to Harry, he blames the soulmate bond. It wants them to be together, he reasons, and he is tired of fighting it. 

“It must’ve felt so right for you that you left,” Harry says. 

Louis raises his head from his shoulder, and as they lock eyes, he shakes his head. 

“I wanted you to go with me.”

Harry’s face falls before he stares blankly at a point just beyond Louis’ shoulder. 

“I wanted you to stay.”

Louis nods, trying to ignore the burning behind his eyes. 

“Well, I fucked that up, didn’t I?” he laughs weakly. 

Harry’s eyes soften, the trace of a smile playing at the edges of his lips. 

“Yeah,” he mumbles, “we both did, I guess.” 

Harry draws him closer, his hand resting on his lower back. Louis has so much to say, but his thoughts are interrupted by the DJ’s loud voice over the speakers. 

“Okay, let’s speed things up and get everyone back on the dancefloor!” the DJ announces, as the opening beats to Uptown Funk begin to play. 

Harry starts to step away from him. 

“Well,” he says, eyes cast downward as he turns away.

Each time they ran into each other until now had been filled with bitterness, but tonight… tonight, Louis just wants to feel the sweetness that once painted their days. Maybe it was the fact that two of their friends had just gotten married, or maybe it was the champagne. Maybe it was the years that could’ve been, the moments between them lost in time. 

He reaches for Harry’s hand.

“Haz-” 

Harry glances back at him, his eyes wide as he looks between their hands and Louis’ face. 

“Just…stay,” Louis starts. “Stay with me? Please?”

Harry opens his mouth to speak before he shakes his head. 

“I look stupid when I dance,” he mumbles even as he steps closer to Louis.

“Then, we’ll look stupid together,” Louis grins, tugging him closer still. 

Harry pouts, even as he steps side to side to the rhythm. Louis can spot the trace of a smile, even as Harry mutters, “They play this bloody song at every wedding.” 

Louis raises his arm as Harry twirls underneath it. Their chests end up colliding, all of their graceful sways abandoned. 

“We won’t play it at ours, then,” Louis says, the words flowing out before he can stop them. He freezes when he realises what he had just said.

Harry’s wide eyes stare at him as he tries to find a way to take back his words. 

“I mean, it’s probably not something we’ll have to worry about because we-”

“Lou-”

“We’re not even together!” Louis stammers. He can feel the sweat nervously collecting on his forehead. 

“Louis-”

Bruno Mars’ vocal riffs are still blasting from the speakers. Louis hears himself laugh, a desperate tinny sound. “God, does this song ever end? I-”

“Will you shut up?” Harry shouts as he grabs him by the shoulders. “Shut up,” he repeats, softer this time, as his hands slide down and settle in Louis’. 

“Okay,” Louis nods dumbly. “I’m shut.”

Harry’s laugh melts into a smile that is all at once new and familiar to Louis. It was the smile that he used to see everyday, and he can’t help but smile back. He’s hopeless. 

“I’m much more of a ‘24k Magic’ fan, so we can play that one instead,” Harry shrugs. 

Louis raises his brows as his lips fall open. Harry squeezes his hands and pulls him even closer, their bodies now flush against each other. 

“I kind of like the idea of a live band though,” he continues. If it wasn’t for the slight quiver in his voice, Louis would think that he was joking. He looks up to find Harry gazing at him, his eyes questioning… waiting. 

Louis blinks and smiles, surprised to feel tears in his eyes. 

“Okay,” he whispers. He hides his face in Harry’s neck, breathing in his scent, the feel of him in his arms. 

“You won’t run away?” Harry asks quietly, his confident joking from earlier gone. Louis’ chest twists and he knows that he never wants Harry to question where he stands. He’s fixed to Harry’s side, no matter how far he may go.

“You know what, Harold?” Louis says, his hand resting on Harry’s face. 

“What?” Harry replies, expectantly. 

“I tried the running thing, and I hated it,” Louis answers. He closes his eyes as he feels Harry’s skin against his fingertips again. It’s a lot, and he feels _grateful_ , of all things. “I hated it. Hated being away from you. Told myself the soulmates thing was shit, but even if it was… I still feel homesick.”

Louis lifts his eyes to find Harry gazing at him. Instead of the vacant stare of their past meetings, he finds open warmth as Harry waits for him to finish his thought. He isn’t running away either. 

A smile is forming on Harry’s face, the kind that makes him look young and dopey. He shakes his head as he stares at Louis. 

“You’re such a…” he mumbles as a smile forms on his face. It’s the kind that makes him look young and dopey. He shakes his head as he stares at Louis, his teeth biting his lip in a poor attempt at concealing his smile.

Louis laughs as he rests his head on Harry’s shoulder. It’s sturdy and sure, and Louis struck with how badly he wants to know how it’ll feel sixty years from now. 

Hand in hand, they keep on dancing, Harry’s sentence left unfinished.


End file.
